


Backstage 16 - the Human Touch

by Aadler



Series: Backstage Stories [16]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-12
Updated: 2011-03-12
Packaged: 2017-10-16 21:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aadler/pseuds/Aadler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You really CAN’T  judge a book by its cover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
**Banner by[SRoni](http://sroni.livejournal.com)**

**the Human Touch**  
by Aadler  
**Copyright December 2003**

* * *

  


Disclaimer: Characters from _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, the WB, and UPN.

She was holding herself together quite well, I thought, but the tension of the evening was beginning to tell on her all the same, and when she caught me checking my reflection in yet another store window, she turned on me with a swirl of flowing skirts. “Are you going to keep doing that all night?” she demanded.

I gave her a smile of apology. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I just can’t get used to this face.” Which was true as far as it went, but in all truth I was still marveling at being able to see a reflection at all. There were other long-forgotten sensations as well, and with some hope I asked her, “Are you hungry?”

Her answer was a sigh, and she indicated our companions. “Not really. And can you see us trying to get _them_ to behave in Bucky’s Fondue Hut?”

“I can behave,” Selina informed her haughtily. “When I feel like it. And did I ask for a babysitter?”

Where Nancy’s apparel was an unlikely mix of Arabian and rural Armenian — I suspect she had meant to appear as a gipsy princess — Selina was clad in form-fitting black leather. One wondered how she contrived to breathe adequately, but it didn’t appear to discomfort her, and she had amply demonstrated that it did not interfere with her freedom of movement when quick movement was required. Indy’s eyes, as usual, were moving over her abundant contours with prurient appraisal, and his voice was the equivalent of an open leer. “You tell ’em, sister. Say the word, we’ll ditch these two and check out the town on our own.”

I could have told him he was wasting his time, but seeing him exhaust his repertoire of tawdry blandishments was high among the entertainments this evening had to offer. He was a rugged-looking brute, I had to acknowledge, but like most of his ilk he had become so accustomed to having women swoon over him, he simply couldn’t recognize it when he encountered one who was repelled by such crude overtures. Nancy, at least, had not been subjected to his unwelcome attentions; in fact, to his credit, he treated her with seeming respect when he spoke to her at all.

Selina ignored him, but I thought I could detect a hint of longing in the way she fingered the whip looped at her belt (a cat-o’-nine-tails, which Nancy had found significant for some reason). “Yes, I see what you mean,” I said to Nancy. “Still, we might get something from a sidewalk vendor.” A hot dog, for instance, or perhaps one of those enormous pretzels, I had long wondered how they might taste …

“Anyone with any sense is staying indoors tonight,” Nancy said. “Which is where we’d be if — Hey, where are you going?”

Indy paused to look back at her, adjusting the disreputable fedora and favoring her with a grin I’m certain he thought was disarming. “Just looking to see what’s down this next block. Don’t worry, I can cross the street without a nursemaid.”

Earlier, we might have argued, but we had already seen how little effect remonstrances had on these two. Nancy was resolved to safeguard whoever Selina had been before her present incarnation, and I had determined that her opinion of me would be markedly lessened if I didn’t show the same solicitude for the nameless individual beneath Indy’s _persona_ , so we had quickly established the tactic of accompanying them and trying to divert them from the most extreme dangers, rather than making the fruitless attempt to control their motions. “Okay, why not?” Nancy said, and I wondered if anyone else could hear the faint tremolo of frustration and fear underlying the resolute nonchalance of her tone.

I was not fearful, myself, and this was a marvel to match the others in my unexpected new manifestation. I have existed in a state of near-constant fear for the greater part of a century, and for several decades before that, and to find myself free of it was as much exhilaration as mystery. No logic to it, of course, this body had significantly less strength than the one to which I had become accustomed; assurance must have been imprinted into its genetic structure, however, for I strode the darkened streets with an uncharacteristic absence of trepidation. Extraordinary, and delightful.

The transition to another block made little difference in our surroundings, and Indy’s dissatisfaction was as apparent as Nancy’s relief. We could hear sirens to the west of us, and what might have been crowd noise, but our immediate environs consisted of closed and darkened shops. “Maybe you were right, Bruce,” Nancy said to me, trying I think to cut in ahead of the scowl growing on the man’s face. “It might not be a bad idea to find a coffee shop or something, rest for a minute …”

“Nothing doing,” Indy said. A sweep of his arm took in the untenanted buildings around us. “I can hear things happening, but we never can catch up with wherever it is. I want to get the low-down on what’s going on.”

“For once I agree with him.” Selina punctuated the statement with a sinuous shrug. “I’m not spoiling for a fight, but I wouldn’t mind seeing some action.” She looked around. “We could cover more ground if we boosted a car.”

Indy laughed. “Slow down, sister. It’s one thing to borrow some transportation if you can hop across a border before the word catches up with you, but we’re in —” He stopped and looked to Nancy. “California, you say?”

“That’s right,” she began, but stopped — as did we all — to watch as a small glowing figure flittered across a side-street ahead of us, six feet above the pavement, followed closely by a boy dressed in green leaf-patterned tunic and hose, shouting to wait. When this apparition had passed, she looked at the rest of us and added, “More or less.”

“Forget coffee,” Indy said, still staring at the empty space ahead of us. “Find us a bar.”

Nancy looked hopefully toward me, and with some regret I told her, “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the neighborhood.”

She shook away her disappointment and turned to the other two. “I only know of one place that would let me in,” she said to them. “And it’s a little … weird … at the best of times.”

“Weird? Really?” Selina’s smile was languid and predatory. “Why don’t you take us there? I’ve always wanted to see if I could handle ‘weird’.”

I knew exactly what establishment Nancy meant, of course. What else could it be?

The city of Sunnydale is something of a conundrum. With such a small population it shouldn’t be able to support the number of civic resources available: multiple parks, an extension university _and_ a private college of some prestige, a quite adequate museum, a large and modern hospital, a zoo, manufacturing plants out of proportion to the number of available workers, a sizeable mall, shipping docks, an airport, a rail station … and yet, with all that, the outlets for after-dark recreation are surprisingly limited, and especially for those not yet of drinking age. The Bronze capitalized on this shortage, catering primarily to the high school population and those college students not yet sufficiently skilled or resourceful to acquire a false ID. Liquor was available, for those who could verify their adult status, but by and large its accommodations and entertainments were centered on the ‘teen’ crowd.

Getting in posed an unexpected problem; Nancy wasn’t carrying cash, not having expected to need it during an evening of recreational trick-or-treating, and the metamorphosis that had transformed our costumes hadn’t bestowed any currency on me or Selina. Indy wasn’t happy about it, but this stop had been his idea, so he extracted a battered wallet and paid the cover for all of us: with, I noted, banknotes printed in the 1930s.

Inside, the theme quite naturally was one of masquerade. Indy’s appearance elicited some approval, and Nancy was likewise accepted; Selina was so striking that most of the males regarded her with appreciation (and some of the females with obvious wariness), though no one seemed quite sure what personage she was supposed to represent. To my surprise, the most pronounced response was to me; several persons remarked on the verisimilitude of my impersonation, and more than a few requested me to perform something called “Born in the U.S.A.” I demurred, and joined my companions at the bar.

Again, Indy was the one paying, and he was horrified by the astronomical prices now being charged for libations. We had to reassure him that this was not unusual for the current era, and he covered the round with poor grace. He and I were served without question; the bartender studied Selina doubtfully for a few moments, but either she genuinely appeared to be of acceptable age (in the last several decades I’ve lost much of my visual judgment regarding human vintage, so I couldn’t say) or the look in her eyes discouraged challenge, for she received her order without any question being voiced. Nancy, of course, contented herself with a carbonated beverage.

The drink was a surprise to me. Some of my compatriots enjoy alcohol — Spike in particular, and you want to stay well clear of him when he’s feeling the effects — but I myself had found that my departure from human existence had made liquid intoxicants almost completely ineffectual upon my new frame. Tonight I was mortal again, however, and the first swallow gasified in my throat and forced its way out of my nostrils in hot vapor; I almost sprayed the bar, but was able to control my reactions. Indy and Selina tossed theirs down neatly enough, and though it clearly pained him, Indy ordered refills for the both of them.

“You were right about this place being unusual,” Indy remarked to Nancy as he waited for the second round to arrive. “I’ve seen some pretty wild dives in Mexico City and Shanghai, but … hell, even the musicians are in costume here.” He glanced up at the stage. “Okay, Halloween and all that, but they’re getting just a little too much in the spirit. They hopped up on something?”

Actually the band was fairly conventional by today’s standards, though I could understand how a man accustomed to jazz combos and swing orchestras might be thrown off his stride by the verve they were demonstrating onstage. “Kid stuff,” Selina said dismissively. “ _Real_ kid stuff, this is a juvie bar. Do they ever have fights here?”

“Sometimes,” Nancy replied. “But when that happens, it’s usually better to go under a table until it’s all over. Fights here …” She paused, choosing her words. “They tend to involve some really rough, really bad people. The kind you want to leave alone.”

One of Selina’s eyebrows went up, with what looked like interest, but she didn’t comment. “Don’t worry about that,” Indy reassured Nancy. “I can take care of myself. Her, too, from the looks of things.”

Indeed, the few moments I had seen of Selina’s reaction when we were accosted (by a group of what Nancy had referred to as Klingons) had been quite impressive. Nancy seemed doubtful. “Just, please, if anything starts up, stick with me and do what I say.”

I could see resistance about to manifest, so it seemed incumbent upon me to point out, “She knows the dangers of this area better than we do. And it wouldn’t do to leave her unprotected.” They accepted that, and Nancy shot me a glance replete with gratitude.

Of all the surprises attendant to my new state, my response to the girl’s approval was among the foremost. I felt … _affectionate_ toward her. My fellows have accused me of sentiment (by which they mean weakness) because I have maintained a love of learning, but I had no difficulty distinguishing what I felt for the mute company of books from what I was feeling for Nancy. Not infatuation, of course, I had not forgotten what I was or the unbreachable difference between us. But I truly liked her, and wanted her to continue thinking well of me for so long as it could be effected.

The next opportunity was quick in coming. Indy tilted a licentious smile in Selina’s direction and began, “So what d’you say about a dance —?”, and Nancy and I were rising in unison. I think she meant to interpose herself between the two of them, but I chose a different method of diversion. “Excellent suggestion,” I said heartily; and then, to Selina, “Might I presume upon your generosity, _mademoiselle?_ If not, I shall immediately withdraw.”

Nancy promptly fell in with my approach, telling Indy, “I’d love to. Thank you so much.”

Selina, who had indeed been moving as if to initiate physical retaliation for the man’s gauche behavior, quirked her lips at the flummoxed expression he turned on Nancy, and to me she said, “Sure, I’ll give it a shot.”

One advantage of actual performers over recorded music lies in the greater adaptability of the former, and tonight’s band demonstrated that capacity as we took to the floor. They had been midstream in the instrumental portion of something loud and forceful, but when Selina and I joined the gyrating crowd in the principal milling area, they transitioned with a few quick chords to something else, a piece with a fast, driving rhythm. The other dancers gave way to us with smiles and even some cheers, and Selina asked me, “So, is that what we’re doing? Dancing in the dark?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” I said, and held out my hands. Selina regarded me with some small puzzlement, then shrugged and accepted my formal embrace, and we began to move together.

What was taking place around us could be classified as dancing only if one expanded the definition to the point where it was almost meaningless; furthermore, the floor was too crowded to allow much space for maneuver, especially as each couple — when couples could be identified — were thrashing it out in their own relatively fixed positions. Still, I led with the most modern thing I knew, a foxtrot timed to coincide with the main rhythm, and found Selina beautifully responsive to my rather hesitant lead. We held our movement within the confines of a tight circle, keeping the pattern simple while we acquired a feel for one another. It began to seem that this could be carried out smoothly and pleasantly …

But, for some reason, the others drew back to allow us a wider area, and began to clap in expectation of something beyond my knowledge. Without my understanding why, we had become the center of attention, the lead singer blaring out something about a gun for hire. I added such flourishes as I could recall from my more sociable youth, and among these ignoramuses it may have appeared impressive, but I knew how limited was my store of technique. Selina was not to be gainsaid, however; she spun out of my grasp and began a sequence of solo moves, seeming to blend gymnastics, interpretive dance, and some that I would swear were martial body-shifts. Before I could falter in confusion she had rejoined me, whirling around me and back into my arms, and we moved together in a series of gliding steps before she again separated to perform on her own. More confident now, I began to incorporate turns and reverses I couldn’t have attempted with a partner, concentrating on maintaining rhythm and coordination; Selina came to me again, again we proceeded in a quick pattern of movement before again moving apart. Three more times we reconnected before the song wound to a close, and a forceful clench of her hands froze us together in a bowing sweep as the piece ended in a thundering crash of drums.

We received ragged but substantial applause; others had continued to dance, but the majority of the floor had been given over to our performance. Selina relaxed her grip, and we left the floor to return to our companions. “Thank you,” I said to Selina. “That was pleasant, and remarkable.”

“If I’m going to do something,” she said, “I want to be the best at it.”

I had seen quick glimpses of Indy and Nancy, moving more conservatively on the floor during Selina’s and my theatrics, but they had found a table by the time the dance ended, and we went to join them. I saw Selina’s lips tighten, and I raised my voice to carry. “I agree, anything you did after that would be anticlimactic. I hope you won’t mind my tendering an invitation to the _other_ charming lady, however.”

Selina glanced from me to Indy, whose face was settling into rueful resignation, and favored me with the tiniest of smiles. “Suit yourself,” she said, as loudly as I had. “Me, I’m done for the night.”

Nancy was regarding me with some reluctance as we reached the table, and she began, “Are you sure that’s a good idea —?”

“Just one, and we won’t go far,” I assured her. “With all the demands of the evening, we’ve not really had much chance to talk.”

She blinked at that, but quickly smoothed her expression and rose. Yes, we most definitely could use an opportunity to speak privately; and, unless I missed my guess, she might well benefit from a few moments’ freedom from responsibility.

I had no reason to suspect that she would be as accomplished as I had found Selina to be, and so it proved. The music was fortunately slow, and I held her lightly and closely, maintaining a simple rhythm for the sake of aesthetics but placing no inordinate demands on her. “God,” she said, settling into my arms. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“You’re doing very well,” I said, with unforced sincerity. “They’re like children — large, aggressive, extremely hormonal children — but I would say you’re taking the right tone with them. Certainly they would never accept direct command.”

“That’s how I saw it,” she sighed; she would have moved in the wrong direction, but I had already forestalled it with a more emphatic lead than I had employed with Selina. “When I saw what she turned into … The thing is, I don’t even like her. But I couldn’t let her wander around loose in the middle of all this craziness.”

“Of course not.” I guided her into a lateral half-turn; a full twirl, of course, would be entirely beyond her. “That’s essentially how I wound up with … him.” Not so, of course — my passing connection to Indy had been entirely accidental — but the fiction was necessary for my more desirable affiliation with Nancy.

“So,” she said. “Have you remembered anything yet about who you were before all this started?”

“I regret to say that I haven’t,” I lied blithely. All told, it seemed simpler to claim a blank slate than to try and maintain a harmless biography; and the truth would not, of course, have served. “I know I’m not … ‘the Boss’ … but I have no memories of my own. I suppose I should be alarmed, or worried, but I’m not.”

“I’m sorry you don’t know who you are,” Nancy said. “But I’m not sorry you’re here. Until you came along, I didn’t know what I was going to do.”

“You appeared to be coping well enough,” I said. The music ended; we turned to check the table, but our companions were sitting peaceably. The next song was also decently slow, and by unspoken agreement we resumed our shared motion. “You’re a quite determined young woman,” I went on. “I have no doubt that you would have proven sufficient to the challenge.”

“I’m just happy I didn’t have to.” Again she sighed. “I’m hoping that whatever is causing this, it’s tied to Halloween, and it’ll wear off as soon as the night is over.”

“That sounds plausible,” I acknowledged. It was primarily intended to comfort her, however; I was by no means confident that the matter would resolve itself so simply. I wasn’t even sure why I had found myself included among those caught up in the grip of the mysterious enchantment. I suspected the red bandanna had something to do with it; I had found it on the sidewalk, and absently tucked it into a trouser pocket, perhaps twenty minutes before being unexpectedly transformed, and the process had somehow repositioned it, folded and knotted as a headband. A clue, but far from being an explanation.

If the spell didn’t end with the sunrise, if I remained bound in human form, that would very definitely require some adjustments in my lifestyle.

Nancy clutched herself closer to me, as if seeking to bury her fears in the diversions of the moment. I turned with her in my arms, and for the first time allowed myself to recognize the question that had been whispering in the back of my mind since her company first intersected mine.

Which did I desire more? Which would I choose, if the choice were mine?

Immortality?

Or life?


	2. Chapter 2

I have devoted considerable time and attention to self-examination since being brought into a nocturnal state of existence. Partly this is because introspection and analysis are central to my nature, and partly because the contrast between what I had been and what I had become naturally invited comparison. In the main, however, my interest derived from a recognition of how different I seemed to be from others of my kind.

The pleasure I take from reading is only the smallest symptom. Spike enjoys televised sports, preferably of the most violent type; Conradt spends as much time searching for vinyl recordings from the “rock” era as he does seeking blood; Dagmar jealously guards her wardrobe of 1930s and ’40s glamor wear; even Drusilla still maintains that collection of antique dolls. We are not entirely divorced from human pleasures, and my own preferences are singled out for attention, not because they indicate weakness, but because they emphasize a weakness already within me.

I have no taste for the hunt. I require blood to continue existing, and to obtain it I will kill with no twinge of conscience (though a quiet part of me continues to observe that I  _ought_ to feel some sense of guilt), but the lust for the kill is entirely absent from me. I am stronger than all but the strongest humans, but less so than nearly all of my brethren. The passion for destruction, the delight in the fear and violation of innocents … I see them in others, but feel no answering echo within myself. If it were possible for me to survive on my own, I would happily immerse myself in centuries of study, content to pursue the cool, pure light of knowledge …

That, however, can never be. We are too aware of one another, we night denizens, and I have too little naked aggression within me to meet the inevitable challenges. I can be a subservient member of a nest, or I can be dust; those are the only options available to me.

So, at least, I had determined. With Nancy in my arms, all that youth and life and earnestness held so close, my previous conviction as to the necessities of my existence seemed very far away …

The music of the second song had ended, and nothing new had started; the members of the band seemed to be discussing something among themselves. I was reluctant to move, wishing the experience could continue … and perhaps Nancy felt the same, for I heard no enthusiasm as she said, “We should go back.”

“I suppose so,” I said. Neither of us stirred.

“How are they doing?” she asked me after a moment.

I glanced toward the table. “They’re looking about, idle curiosity it seems. Not dealing with one another for now.” I was conscious of her heartbeat in a way utterly different from my customary predator’s awareness; and of my own, thudding in a sympathetic counterpoint. Her breath was warm on my chest. “You’ve asked me about my own background and memories,” I observed, “and I’m sorry I have no information to offer. As it happens, however, you’ve told me nothing about yourself.”

I felt the smile I couldn’t see. “I’m the other one,” she said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Ever since sixth grade,” she explained. “There’s another girl named Nancy. Well, more than one, but nobody cares about any of them. She’s very smart, very angry, very passionate, maybe a little strange. We know most of the same people, so when someone mentions Nancy, and there’s a question of _which_ Nancy … she’s the mean one, and I’m the other one.”

“I could think of a more appropriate label,” I said.

She pulled away from me. “They’re moving. We need to go back.”

The moment had ended, and we started for the table where we had left our unwanted charges. They had come to their feet, their gaze focused on something I couldn’t determine, and their postures held the coiled readiness that heralded imminent violent action.

Nancy saw it, too. “What is it?” she demanded of them as we came close enough for speech to be feasible.

“Somebody doesn’t want to take no for an answer,” Selina said without looking our way. Her tone was flat and deadly, her fingers curled stiffly into something like claws.

“I was just telling her to relax for a second,” Indy informed us. “Place like this, things sort themselves out most of the time … Whoa!”

On the other side of the room, a man in pirate regalia had suddenly begun to tear at the clothing of a young woman in a tastelessly abbreviated Girl Scout uniform. Her protesting shrieks mingled with surprised shouts from bystanders, but somehow Selina’s snarl of fury cut through it all, and she vaulted a billiards table and hurled herself at the offending buccaneer.

I moved to follow, not because I wished it but because I knew Nancy would expect it of me, but a cry of alarm from her commanded my attention. Following her pointing finger, I saw that someone else was prepared to enter the fray. He had been sitting alone in a small booth with a view of the door: white shirt, long black vest, a kind of open-clip holster strapped to one thigh, I had noted him mainly because his face strongly resembled Indy’s. He was on his feet now, brandishing a long-barreled pistol of no recognizable manufacture, trying to aim through the surging figures around him. Indy, too, had drawn a weapon, a revolver, and Nancy screamed at him, “No guns! Remember, they’re _kids —!”_

Little regard though I had for the man, one must respect quickness of mind; he didn’t even reholster the revolver, he tossed it to the other hand, and a moment later the long whip he had worn diagonally across his chest — he must have unwrapped it when he and Selina stood — snapped out across the room. The braided tip spun around the weapon of the vested man, and Indy plucked the pistol from his grasp with an expert yank, just as the trigger was pulled or firing stud pressed or whatever was the means of activation. A pencil-beam of crackling light lanced from the barrel to the ceiling, and a moment later a heavy lighting fixture plummeted from above to crash through one of the tables.

The crowd promptly erupted into howling panic, stampeding forms blocking my view of Selina, the pirate, the lurid Girl Scout, the vested man. I was jolted from my feet by glancing collision with an eight-foot yellow bird with enormous plaintive eyes and an elongated beak, and fought my way back upright through the rush around me. Nancy was forcibly towing Indy toward the nearest exit, and to me she shouted, “Get Harmony!” I was able to divine her intent through the puzzling _non sequitur_ , and pushed toward my last sight of Selina.

I found her; she had driven the pirate to his knees and was powering shin-kicks into his ribs, and when I put my hand on her she whirled toward me, drawing back to strike with rigid knuckles. I had no wish to test this body’s combat capabilities, so begging seemed the best defense. “Help!” I said to her. “Nancy needs help! This way!”

Selina turned and pistoned her knee into the pirate’s face, then to me she said, “Let’s go.”

We were moving with the current now, so within a few seconds we were outside the main door. Indy called us over; he and Nancy had taken refuge behind one of the parked vehicles, and Selina surveyed the absence of peril or opposition with growing anger. “What’s going on here? You pulled me away from _serious business —!”_

“Did the girl get away?” Nancy asked me.

“She was gone by the time I arrived on the scene,” I confirmed. “And the pirate was in no condition to pursue her.”

Selina spat. “Not as much as he deserved. I wasn’t finished with him, I was going to fix it so he’d _never —!”_

“And tomorrow morning,” Nancy interrupted, “some kid in the chess club wakes up castrated. It’s not their fault, it’s a  _spell,_ how many times do I have to tell you people?”

“Easy, sweetheart.” Indy threw a comforting arm around her, and to my astonishment I caught myself moving forward, hands closed into fists. I halted in some consternation (had I truly been about to attack him?), and he went on unaware: “We’re still getting used to all this. No harm, we rescued the damsel and got clear without maiming anybody. Feel better now?”

“Look at the bright side,” I said to Selina. I was still trying to come to terms with my unexpectedly bellicose reaction to Indy’s unwelcome familiarity with Nancy, but that didn’t prevent me from contributing to the management of this unruly pair. “You found the action you wanted.”

“Not as _much_ as I wanted,” Selina sulked. “I was just getting started.” Still, she seemed to be somewhat mollified.

Nancy looked toward the entrance of the club, and the few stragglers still emerging. “Anyway, we can forget about this place for the rest of the night. When trouble breaks out here, that’s all she wrote till morning. Ordinary fights, no problem, but once they charge the exits, it’s all over. Like a tradition, I guess.”

“Right.” Selina turned her back to us, booted foot tapping impatiently on the pavement. “So what are we supposed to do now?”

“I told you, I don’t know any place else.” Nancy’s expression was frazzled, frustrated. “There _isn’t_ anywhere else —”

“We’ll find something,” Indy said confidently. “C’mon, ladies.” He led off as if that settled the matter; Selina fell in behind him after a second’s hesitation, and Nancy and I had little choice but to follow.

I had a choice, actually; but I was no more willing to relinquish Nancy’s company than she to abandon her perceived duty. “It’ll be all right,” I murmured to her, and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I hope so,” she whispered back. “I hope so.” She looked to me, overwhelmed by the demands she had elected to bear and the weight of her own worries, and I could actually see the moment that her eyes came back from harried speculation to focus on me. Her hand tightened in mine, and once again she said, “I’m so glad you’re here, there’s no way I could handle this by myself. I owe you so much … and I don’t even know what you really look like.”

“Neither do I,” I said. Truthfully, for once; I have little memory, and less curiosity, regarding my original appearance, and until recently my condition did not lend itself to study in a mirror.

What I didn’t say, and couldn’t forget, was that she would have drawn little comfort from seeing my actual face.

*               *               *

Objectively speaking, random chance is the most probable explanation for the oddities in my nature. It is easy to see that the demon manifests differently in different individuals, and in all likelihood there are differences as well between the demons themselves. One hears the tales, and the very fact that such things are remarkable enough to inspire recounting indicates that few of us have the Master’s ascetic dedication, Argonne’s charismatic leadership, the aristocratic decadence of Darla and Angelus, or even Spike’s sheer joy in battle. They are at one extreme, and drones and weaklings — such as myself — may reasonably be predicted at the other.

I recognize all that, but some part of myself seeks a more satisfying rationale. Nor is it merely a matter of pure wishful thinking, for there is genuine reasoning behind the alternative theory I have gradually developed.

It concerns blood, of course; for me and my kindred, it’s always a matter of blood. And, admittedly, some of my premises rest on speculation and unconfirmed “family” history. Even so, it all strikes me as reasonably plausible, as long as certain exceptions and unknown factors are acknowledged.

Among my line, it has long been accepted that Drusilla is of mixed descent, Angelus and Darla alternately feeding from and sharing their blood with her as she gibbered in madness. Similarly, Spike has imputed his provenance both to Drusilla and to Angelus at one time or another; that, along with Drusilla’s carelessness regarding so many other aspects of behavior, have made me suspect that she may have drained Spike’s human shell but left it to her progenitor to supply his own blood to trigger the transformation.

Lethal and frightening though they be, the two of them, Drusilla and Spike, exhibit more human characteristics than are usually found among vampires, principally in their devotion to one another. Does this mean that those of us with dual parentage — seeded by one, activated by another — preserve more of their original humanity, or perhaps are thus rendered suitable for habitation only by weaker, less forceful demons? If this were so, then further dilution of the strain would continue to exaggerate such tendencies; what is only a suggestion in Spike or his dark paramour would become more pronounced with reinforcement.

A classic vampire is of pure descent, blood of one to blood of the next. Drusilla would be a diminution of that, Angelus/Darla rather than wholly one or the other; Spike would further attenuate the demon, Drusilla [Angelus/Darla]/Angelus, though the repetition of Angelus’ essence would diminish the loss. And if the reduced Drusilla drank from and marked me, with her reduced lover and protector tainting me with his blood to produce a useful minion … then, I would be twice-reduced, my demon a thinner and weaker barrier to the humanity for which I feel such an affinity.

It is an attractive theory, to me at least, but my circumstances afford me no means of confirming it. The natural question — if my reduced strain were further reduced, would that produce a creature of yet more pronounced humanlike qualities? — would be dangerous for me to test. Minions don’t make minions; I don’t know if that is a universal law, or merely the decree passed down within my line, but it would require a bolder spirit than mine to systematically disregard it. I  _have_ given my blood, twice, to persons drained and discarded but not yet dead (one from a former follower of the Anointed One, and one from Drusilla just before Spike’s first clash with the Slayer), but I was unable to track their progress. Both were impulse, many times regretted, and neither provided me with any evidence to refute or reinforce my theory of descent.

I am more human than my night brethren, and they despise me for it. Tonight, however, I am _fully_ human … and still I am unsure of my place or my best course of action.


	3. Chapter 3

Against Nancy’s initial protests, we followed a prior suggestion from Selina and stole a motor vehicle, something called an SUV. My thought was that it would better serve to keep us together, and would provide an added increment of protection from whatever unpredictable hazards we might encounter. Indy’s concern at our uncomfortable proximity to a disapproving legal authority was allayed when I reminded him that local law enforcement would tonight have more urgent priorities than minor vehicular larceny. Selina effected the actual theft (though he had claimed to be proficient at such endeavors, Indy found himself frustrated by modern wiring schemes), so that she became the driver by right of conquest.

Nancy, I could see, would have preferred to be in control of our course, but to my mind Selina was the next best choice; I had no direct experience with navigating an automobile, and Indy — though he would have found it impossible to admit or even recognize the fact — was attuned to the traffic rules and rhythms of a different era. Selina drove aggressively but with perfect confidence and awareness, and we slid through the night streets to the accompaniment of a savage, snarling syntho-techno tune from a radio station I am positive Selina had selected purely to vex Indy.

I did not myself particularly care for her choice, but it allowed Nancy and me, posted next to one another in the SUV’s second row of seats, to converse with relative privacy. Her imperative might be the safeguarding of our unwanted companions, but mine was to extend and enjoy my time in her company. “I should be in the front,” she was saying to me. “At least there I might be able to steer her away from hot spots.”

“Really?” I had frequently wondered just how much awareness this town’s inhabitants had of the perils attendant to the supernatural latticework threaded throughout their environment, and here was an opportunity to investigate the question. “What kind of hot spots?”

“Well, it’s usually a good idea to stay away from the parks after dark. There’s a bunch of bars near the docks that can get pretty rough. Crawford Street, the north end, used to have a bad reputation but I don’t know how accurate that is.” Nancy frowned, her eyes distant as she assessed other possibilities. “There are a bunch of vacant warehouses, and a few factories that have closed down — my mom says the Mayor offers all kinds of tax breaks and zoning favors to attract businesses to Sunnydale, but there’s still a lot of turnover — and vagrants and PCP gangs have taken over some of the empty buildings. Other gangs vandalize the cemeteries after dark, so it’s better to stay away from those …” She stopped, and looked to me with sudden realization. “Actually, _anywhere_ at night that doesn’t already have a lot of lights and a lot of people.”

I wondered if she included her coevals’ favorite, the Bronze, in her list of safe locales, despite its history. “From the sound of things, you haven’t much to choose from.”

“No, I don’t.” She glanced toward the front seat. “Maybe if I could get them interested in the Mall …”

That didn’t strike me as highly probable, but there was nothing to be gained by discouraging her. “You’ve lived here your whole life,” I observed. “You only have to get them through one night.”

“It’s worse than it used to be, though.” She sat back in her seat. “God, it’s been getting worse for _years_. How could I have not noticed —?”

In front of us, Selina turned down the radio, and spoke over her shoulder to Nancy. “Does this town have any expensive neighborhoods?”

“What do you mean?” Nancy asked.

Selina shrugged. “I was just planning to cruise around, kill a little time, and then hook some transport out of here, I’m for the big city life. But, as long as I’m around, I might as well check out possibilities.” My angle didn’t allow me to see Selina’s eyes in the mirror, but I suspected Nancy could. “So, how about it? Any mansions? High-end jewelry stores? Art dealerships? Stuff like that?”

I could feel Nancy’s tension through the hand I kept on her arm, but didn’t know its cause. “We’ve … got a lot of different things, for a small town,” she said carefully. “I guess because L.A. is so close. Were you wanting to, to do anything tonight, or just … scout the territory?”

This time I could see a corner of Selina’s smile. “I don’t run jobs out of a terrain-chewer like this, it’s not maneuverable enough. Plus, stolen. No, I’m just scouting.”

“Okay,” Nancy said, relaxing. “Well, there are some places you could look at —”

“What’s that?” Indy said suddenly.

I couldn’t tell what he meant, but a moment later Selina had swung the SUV to a stop, and the scene became clear. On the street ahead of us, a number of small demonic figures were scampering about two larger individuals, movement and shadows from the headlights making it difficult to ascertain if the latter were transfigured or merely costumed. At first I thought the beleaguered pair were allied against the diminutive swarm besieging them; but then the largest, apparently clad only in thick hair, reached out for the other one in obvious attack before being diverted once again as several small horned creatures attached themselves to his ankles. He bellowed and began trying to dislodge them with violent kicks, but they simply clung hooting to his calves. He lost his footing and went to his knees, the others immediately sprang to his shoulders, and his former companion (caparisoned like a  _gaucho,_ I saw now, and not truly much taller than the gnomish things they had been fighting) seized the opportunity and fled.

While I had been taking in this spectacle, the others had left the safety of the vehicle, and now Nancy was urging, “Stop them! You have to get them apart!”

“Why?” Indy asked, his voice carrying the same mystification I felt. Why couldn’t we just stay clear of all these extraneous entanglements, why was it necessary for us to —?

 _“They’re children!”_ she shrieked, fists clenched in frustration. “They’ll kill each other if you don’t stop them! Please, you have to help me!”

Our unlikely duo were moving before she finished, whips streaking and cracking through the chittering pack and its shaggy prey. By the time it occurred to me that I, too, should intervene for appearances’ sake, it was over; the imps had scattered, yipping and howling in thwarted rage, and when the seeming Sasquatch attempted to charge his rescuers, Indy snared his feet with the bullwhip and Selina looped kick after kick into the creature’s face, spinning again and again to slam them home in inexhaustible succession, until at last he fell and lay still.

With nothing else to contribute, I put my arms around Nancy as if ready to shield her from some yet-unseen threat. She jerked, startled, before realizing who I was, and shook me off. “Is he okay?” she demanded of Selina. “You didn’t kill him?”

 _Apropos,_ the thing on the street twitched a few times and let out a great blubbering snore. That settled that, I thought, but no. Nancy turned to me and said, “Help me tie him up.”

I said (reasonably, I think), “If he’s bound, he won’t be able to defend himself.”

“And if he’s not,” she shot back, “he’ll just attack someone else when he comes to. So we’re going to tie him up and take him with us.”

“Nancy …” I was so nonplussed by this irrationality that I couldn’t think how to react, but I did my best to keep my tone gentle. “We have no idea how many people this enchantment covers. Dozens, hundreds, perhaps thousands.” I reached out to take her hands in mine. “You can’t save them all.”

She looked to me, her eyes searching; and then something happened to her face, it crumpled and hardened at the same time. She pulled her hands away from me, and stared at me as if trying to classify some species of insect. “We’ll save this one,” she said. “And every other one we can. Help or not, it’s your choice.”

How had this happened? I had only been pointing out what was obvious to an objective eye, and yet within moments I had seen the obliteration of all the companionship that had been building between us this evening. While I was still trying to understand, she turned to Indy and Selina, and spoke with that same diamond hardness. “That also goes for you two. They’re kids: this one, the ones that ran, who knows how many others. Some of them will die if we don’t do something. If you’ll help me, I need you. If you won’t, I can’t afford to waste any more time on you.” She paused, and added the word she had not deigned to give me: “Please.”

We bound the creature with battery cables and secured it in the back of the SUV. I gave myself fully to the task, lifting and heaving with the others to get our captive into the vehicle’s interior, but when I spoke to Nancy she either answered in single syllables or didn’t respond at all.

It must, I concluded, be something to do with humanity. But, struggle though I might, I couldn’t recall enough of the emotional underpinnings of my former existence to make any sense out of Nancy’s behavior. That disturbed me; I have always been more nearly human than my fellows, they have scorned me for it, and now I had a human body and human desires and, yes, undeniably human emotions, and _still_ I was facing a mystery. Perhaps this was a greater gulf than the one between demon and mortal; perhaps I was trying to peer across the eternal chasm that has always separated man from woman …

If so, I would have to address it as men have always done: by persistence, alternating reasoned argument with abject pleas and fawning adulation. My ultimate task was not to understand her — even vampire masters have despaired of ever comprehending the workings of their females’ minds — but to persuade her, and that was a task best begun soonest.

“I’m sorry,” I said to her. Again we were in the back together (though only, I suspect, because Selina and Indy had resumed their former places before Nancy had thought to request a change). “I know how it sounded, but that wasn’t what I meant to say.” She sat without speaking, and I chose to take that as a noncommittal response. “If you must know, I’m afraid for you. You’re trying so hard, you’ve taken on so much … I worry that you won’t be able to bear the strain.”

“Right,” she said flatly; an answer, but the steel in her tone was less than wholly encouraging. “You’re an unfeeling bastard, but only out of concern for me because I’m so weak.” She turned in the seat to face me. “Who are you under that get-up? Larry? Andy? John Lee? God, I can’t _believe_ I was such a chump!”

Chump? Once again I didn’t understand, and opened my mouth to say so, but hours of anger and resentment (initially at her situation, but now directed at me) boiled out of her in a scalding rush. “I’ve been dealing with guys like you since junior high, you’ve all got this whole routine for the sensitive chick with the nice tits: you listen and you sympathize and you’re SO caring and understanding, as long as it’s moving you toward what you want. Everything’s wonderful, everything is perfect, unless you don’t get your way … or maybe even if you do, and now there’s no challenge left, and all of a sudden Prince Charming is Mister Hyde, cutting me down in public and telling stories behind my back —”

“No, no,” I interjected. “It’s nothing like that —”

“Shove it!” she snarled. “Because _I don’t care._ I’ll fight that out some other day. Right now there’s no time. Right now it’s about lives, it’s about people who’ll die if we don’t stop it. What you think doesn’t matter, what I think doesn’t matter. What matters is what we’re doing right now.”

“Oh, boy,” Indy muttered from the front seat; Selina had left the radio turned down, and Nancy’s castigation of me had been more than loud enough to carry those few feet ahead of us. While I was still adjusting to this unexpected humiliation, Selina said, “Nice job, kiddo. You want to turn him over and toast the other side, or do you prefer your rat-bastards sunny-side-up?”

Our seat shook, and for a confused moment I thought Nancy had punched it out of anger; but then it came again, a more emphatic thump, and I realized that the vehicle’s fifth passenger, in the space behind us, was adding its own commentary to the conversation. “We’ve got trouble back here,” Nancy said, and the seat lurched with another impact. “You may need to pull ov–”

Perhaps the creature had freed one of its limbs, or perhaps its efforts had shifted it to a position of greater leverage, for the next blow tore the bench seat loose from its mounting brackets, and I was slammed into the back of the seat ahead of me. Shaken though I was, mine was the lesser effect; the force had been directed more upon Nancy’s side than on mine, and the jolt hurled her into the foremost space, tumbling so that her head fell into the floor-well on the passenger’s side and her legs kicked and swung blindly against Selina’s arms, head, and the steering wheel she held. Even if Selina had already begun to slow, it still wasn’t enough; she lost control for an instant, one wheel struck a curb, the steering wheel jerked free, and the SUV careened to the opposite side of the street, bounded across the sidewalk, and plowed through the front of the neon-lit building facing outward.

The final collision and sudden stop had again thrown me against the back of Indy’s seat, but I found myself uninjured; I got the door open and almost fell out, ominous sounds and unfamiliar odors assailing my senses; Indy emerged from the other door, pushing his way past some bulging fabric balloon that had somehow burst from the dash panel, and together we began to extricate Nancy from the inverted posture she had involuntarily assumed …

Human reflexes cannot match those of the undead, but the speed of a living brain is a marvel. I heard a deep, grating growl behind me, and long, _long_ before I turned in its direction I knew where we had come to rest and how untenable was our position.

It was a small crowd at Willy’s tonight, even with the dim interior lighting I could tell that much: perhaps a dozen of various breeds, and none of them vampires. (Most of those would be occupied with whatever was the unscheduled activity Spike had called for tonight; I had been derisively exempted, but ventured out in uncharacteristic solitude simply from curiosity.) Other demons are less punctilious about the proper observances, but still would be likely to stay to their homes or lairs on this particular night. That meant that the ones slowly advancing would be atypical, unpredictable, and probably the more dangerous because of it, though their numbers and nature would already provide them with all the advantage they should need.

Selina rolled across the hood of the SUV, alighting beside me as Indy continued to pull Nancy from the front. She swept her gaze across the mismatched throng gathering to confront us, and breathed, “What the _hell …?”_

“Meat,” the nearest one grunted; he was barely four feet tall, and almost as wide, with pebbled skin. “Pink meat.”

“Gents, gents!” This was a high, anxious voice from the back. “You know the rules. No killin’ within ten blocks, it draws too much attention to this place.”

“Rules are off,” another wheezed; one of the few lights was behind it, I could only see an outline, but the shoulder fronds would make it a Velga, though they were supposed to be extinct. “Forget rules, they violated our space on _Halloween!”_

Indy was at my left now, and in a low voice he said to me, “Something tells me this isn’t your everyday gin joint.”

“Remember what Nancy told us about all the odd things being enchanted children?” I said to him and to Selina. “That doesn’t apply to this bunch. Kill as many as you want.”

“That’s a good thing to know,” Selina said, and then the first rank charged.


	4. Chapter 4

It was an uncoordinated rush, and Indy shot the first three, which meant I had ample time to jump back into the front section of the SUV and scoot across to the opposite door. The vehicle itself blocked most of the interior of Willy’s from the street, and Indy and Selina together should last long enough to provide me with sufficient head start …

There was a little cry from behind me, and I reversed directions so suddenly that it took me an extra second to realize that the movement had initiated within my own muscles. Nancy, I had forgotten about Nancy! I launched myself from the door I had entered, and onto the back of the thing that had come between her and me, my legs scissored me to its midsection and my hands reached around to its face, digging for the eyes. Goo squirted onto my fingers, its shriek climbed into the ultrasonic, and I pushed myself clear and landed on my feet as it lurched away. Another one was almost on her, the Velga — yes, those markings left no doubt — and I hammered it down with a bar stool, striking and screaming until the wood shattered.

Rage is thoroughly familiar to a vampire, it comes far more easily to us than does laughter; but, though all-encompassing, it is … shallow, somehow, once one quests below that first layer there is nothing more beneath. A human’s fury is of an entirely different caliber, filling and transcending its bearer, and yet through it all the creature continues to _think_. I pulled Nancy away, yet another nonhuman form was coming at us, and my mind quite calmly reported, _g’Nath, elbow joints vulnerable to lateral stress,_ even as my hands were reaching for it. I broke the elbow with a sharp opposing double-slap, seized the slack arm and spun, g’Nath tendons ripping as I twisted with somewhat more intensity than a human body should be able to produce. Releasing it, I shoved Nancy into a corner and turned to face the room, interposing my powerless mortal shell as a barrier against anything that would touch her.

There was no threat to her, for the moment, all attention being on my more dramatic cohorts. I had heard at least one more shot while rescuing Nancy, but Indy no longer held the revolver, and he had no room to use his whip; he was fighting barefisted against a pair of storklike demons of a species I didn’t recognize. It was clear that they were stronger than he, but he was tougher than I had ever known a human to be; it was as if he could consciously or automatically call on all his reserves at once, taking blows that should have dropped him from shock alone, and _still_ slamming back at them with a force well beyond his seeming capacity.

If he was leather, Selina was lightning. I had thought her impressive in her previous clashes, but here she was breathtaking, whirling from one foe to another, striking and moving and striking at the next, shifting targets in an endless undulating coil of motion. She was taking on four at once, using her hands only for defense, relying on the greater power of her legs and smashing at whatever looked like a vulnerable point. One fell as I watched, its knee crushed, and she snapped an instep kick into the delicate cartilage at its throat before spinning away to the next target. Chopping them down bit by bit, never slowing herself to finish one off until it was already so reduced that she could administer the _coup de grace_ without a pause.

It was too little. Indy and Selina were extraordinary enough to prevail over a dozen strong humans, or even double their own number of demons, but a dozen demons was too much even for them. One of the forms on the floor stirred and began to rise, the squat, pebbly thing that had greeted us as pink meat; and the g’Nath was coming toward me again, claws extruding from the fingers on its good remaining arm. They were too many for us, we couldn’t last.

I charged the g’Nath, kicking at knees and groin in imitation of Selina’s tactics. I didn’t have her speed, however, and a taloned sweep opened up my t-shirt and the muscles of my chest. It was as if I had been striped with fire; I gave ground, gasping from the sear of pain, and Nancy darted around me to snatch up a fragment of wood from the stool I had broken on the Velga. She clubbed at the g’Nath’s head and back, and it made a little sideways stagger before wheeling to face her. She tried to retreat, angled the wrong way and backed up against a booth, screamed as the g’Nath closed on her. I hooked an arm around its neck and turned, trying to wrench it backward, but I had failed to break its balance and it stood unswayed, reaching back over its shoulder to rake the claws across my face and scalp —

The change was instantaneous. I still held my earlier position, and bent the demon back, readily if not easily. My other hand across its jaw, a moment to solidify the grip, and a hard twist of my shoulders snapped the corded neck. It fell at my feet, clawed fingers closing convulsively on the knotted bandanna.

I had never taken it off. I had noted its presence and position in a mirror, but had seen no reason to remove it. Once it was taken from me, my true nature, and strength, had returned. Would it be the same, I wondered, with the others affected? Or was it different for me because I wasn’t the bandanna’s actual owner, or not in fact human, just as I had retained the memory of my original identity?

Nancy moved up beside me. “Is it — dead?” she asked, looking down.

“Yes,” I said. I took a half-step back to put myself slightly behind her, crooked an elbow around her throat, and applied pressure with the other arm as I had seen done on _Walker: Texas Ranger_ (one of Roland’s favorites, before he had failed to return from a routine hunt). She lost consciousness within seconds, just as it had always worked on _Walker_ , and I lowered her to the floor.

She could not be allowed to see my true face.

Nor could the others. It took several moments’ concentration to call up the human mask, then I moved to aid Indy and Selina. Wooden daggers from the shattered stool, along with my natural strength, allowed me to dispatch three of the remaining demons before they realized that the battle had changed, and the surviving two fled upon seeing the fate of their fellows.

I went to retrieve Nancy from where she lay, carried her back to my former companions. “Take her,” I said. “Get her out of here. Keep her safe.”

“Right,” Indy rasped. His cheek and knuckles were bloody, and he breathed as if ribs were broken. He started to reach for her, then blinked at me. “What … what happened to your face —?”

Ah. Yes. A human face, but not the one they had seen me wear before now. “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Take her away from this place. It still isn’t safe here.”

“I’ll see if I can get the Explorer started,” Selina said. She went across the hood in the same easy tumble she had used before, looked at me from the driver’s side. “You’re not coming with us?”

I studied Nancy where she lay in my arms: sensitive chick with the nice tits. She had tried to carry the weight of the world, and for a brief time I had embraced the same madness, risking my life in violation of all reason and necessity. She had meant everything to me … and now I could drain her dry without remorse, save only an aesthetic pang at the destruction of something beautiful and rare.

Human enough to merit the sneers of other vampires, but not to deserve the love of a human girl; or to desire it, now that my unbeating heart could no longer recognize the value that my unfeeling mind still knew she held.

“Just go,” I said. I held her out to Indy. “Take her and go.”

The SUV made a dreadful clattering noise when Selina coaxed the engine into activity, but she could move and steer it. In the back, the Sasquatch was still struggling against its bonds and kicking against whatever it could reach, but that no longer concerned me. I stepped out of the enormous hole in the front of Willy’s and stood on the sidewalk, watching as the vehicle pulled away.

Trying to feel. Or even simply to remember the feelings now vanished.

Near the end of the next block, the SUV slammed to a halt. I watched, but could see no reason for its stopping, and I began to walk in that direction. Selina came out the driver’s side door … No, not Selina, this girl had a different build and was differently dressed, and as I drew nearer I saw that her attire was a wet-looking black vinyl, crisscrossed with huge crude stitching, and that she wore a cowled mask of the same material. Long before then I had been able to make out her words, not that they were of interest.

“Forget it. You can just _forget_  it, Tucker Wells. Not only would I not be caught dead anywhere near you, if you even _tell_ anybody I was ever in the same car with you I’ll say you built a shrine to Boy George and the Village People and, and any other stupid gay person I can think of! Do you understand me?”

The answering voice held a quaver, but also real anger. “So I should care? _Nobody_ cares what you say, Harmony, you’ll always be second string. You, you couldn’t even come up with your own costume, you had to wait and see what Cordelia was going to wear and try to go her one better!”

Harmony — not even a pale semblance of Selina — stamped her foot and made a sweeping gesture. “Amscray, Prince of Dorkness. Take that POS and hit the horizon!”

I was very near now, and from the interior of the vehicle I heard yet another voice. “Dude, what am I doing here? And why is all this rubber stuff wrapped around me? Are you, like, a safe ride for stoners? ’cause that is just so awesome …” There was a long pause, and then, “Whoa. Is that Nancy? The other Nancy? Dude, what did you _do_ to her? Or is she, like, stoned too …?”

There was no answer, but the SUV spun away with a profligate squealing of tires. Harmony pulled the cowl back from her face, drew her hair out, and shook it free. “Ew, I’m all sweaty. _Everywhere_ I’m sweaty, I should sue.” Her hair, I saw, was longer than Selina’s had been, and of a lighter but markedly less convincing shade. She was also not as tall, even with the spiked heels. She looked around, and jumped at the sight of me as I drew level with her. “Yow. Who are you?”

“My name is Dalton,” I said pleasantly. “Not that it matters, I don’t believe we’ve met. Are you lost? Do you need help?”

She snorted. “No, I don’t need help, and if I did I wouldn’t want it from some creepy gross _old_ person.” She turned her back to me, adding determinedly, “I can take care of myself.”

“Oh, I seriously doubt that.” She had been considerate enough to draw back the cowl, so my teeth entered her throat without resistance. She put appropriate vigor into the scream, but struggled only half-heartedly, and within seconds even that perfunctory resistance had ceased. With one nail I opened a cut on the back of my hand, and held the bleeding wound to her mouth. Slack and dazed, either not understanding or lacking the will to resist, she suckled submissively, and when I felt her swallow, I resumed drinking from her until I had taken enough blood to bring about unconsciousness.

Satisfied, I slung her over my shoulder and began walking again. I would, I decided, leave her in a church; she should be reasonably safe there until she awoke or was found. She was too stupid to survive for much longer … but my essence was in her veins now, and if she was killed by another vampire, I might have the opportunity to see whether further diluting of the demon strain would endow her with more of the humanity yet so distant from me.

Maintaining a hobby, I think, provides a balance to existence.

I could still see the point where the SUV had turned and left my field of view. Nancy, too, should be in no further peril now, except possibly from the puerile males currently in custody of her. I had, it seemed to me, created two legacies tonight: one by taking Harmony, the other by allowing Nancy to go untouched. I had not marked her … but she had, perhaps, left her mark on me. Her own legacy, as it were.

Harmony twitched on my shoulder, and I contemplated taking more of her blood (or all of it); but then she subsided, and I continued to walk.

   
end


End file.
